Pureblood Panther
by xxxShi.Ro
Summary: Aizen retreats during the war. As the only remaining Espada, Grimmjow wants out from Aizen's control. With Urahara and Ichigo's help, he starts his new life until memories start to flood his mind, and what strange memories they are...
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

Tom Marvolo Riddle stood at the head of the dimly lit room at Malfoy Manor, surrounded by his faithful death eaters. His master plan had been put in the works and he would bring it to fruition and ascend the throne of power in the wizarding world and beyond. He addressed his followers.

"My comrades, as you have seen, our world is continually being invaded by outsiders, those of muggle descent. This infestation of filth is becoming rampant, and those mudbloods steal our secrets, knowledge and techniques and use them as their own. Those unworthy scum think they can be on the same level as us, and I say it's time we open our eyes and teach them a lesson. Their numbers are growing, and soon they will attempt to usurp the power from those of us who actually have a right to it, those of us with wizarding blood running through our veins. Are we just going to sit here and let that happen? I for one will not..."

Tom continued with his speech, all his death eaters aptly listening, all, except a handful, that is. Amidst the throng of followers, stood Marc Jeaggerjaques. His face wore the same look of seriousness and devotion as those around him, but in the glistening pools of cerulean that were his eyes, his amusement with 'his lord's' speech shone clearly. He ran his fingers through his tousled light brown hair and gave an inaudible sigh, unnoticed by those around him.

He had known the time was coming; he had sensed it. His 'leader' had gotten stronger. In fact, over the past few years, Tom had begun to radiate an aura that felt almost inhuman. And now, he was about to officially proceed with his plans in all seriousness. He might even be ready to go public. Things were speeding up faster than Marc had anticipated. All this meant to Marc was that the time was high for him to get a move on with _his_ plans. He would have liked to let Tom do a bit more of the dirty work, but he could tell if he didn't act soon, his chances of succeeding would become slim. Also, the longer that he let Tom be leader, the more loyal, or scared, his followers would become, and the less reluctant they would be to join Marc, not that Marc didn't have a few on his side already; his faithful five. He was never one to waste opportunity. He had made note of all those Death Eaters who might share his thoughts, or those, whose faith in Riddle he saw waver every now and then. So, like the opportunistic hunter that he was, he had swept down and rounded up his men from within Voldemort's ranks itself. Of course, he had to be very careful with this, and could approach only those he was absolutely positive about, and he had to limit the number, he couldn't let word of his plans get out, now could he?

He would not let himself be found out before necessary. Thus far, he had five loyal men in on his plans, well four men and one woman, and, while that may seem insignificant, it would suffice for now. He didn't even really need them much for this phase, two would be enough just to watch his back. After all, he was confident in his abilities, and when he had won, the others would join his ranks. However, while many would quickly accept him as their new leader after witnessing his power and hearing him out, he was sure there were those who would struggle and refuse. Some of them were just too attached to 'their lord' and would accept none other than him. One person he was sure would never join him, especially after he got rid of Tom, was Bellatrix Lestrange, he would just have to kill her too. No matter, resistance was to be expected, but in the end there would be no choice. Actually, there would be a choice, join him or die an excruciating death, after all, they were dealing with the man who invented and perfected the Cruciatus curse, not that they knew that of course, they all thought said curse was just another testament to 'their lord's' genius. Marc mentally rolled his eyes.

Actually, he was feeling a bit offended that Riddle had not marked him as enough of a threat to do away with him, or should I say _try_ to do away with him. But then again, he _was_ a good actor, and that idiot Tom, with his major god complex, seriously believed _everyone_ just _wanted_ to be following him around like loyal drooling dogs. He snapped out of his thoughts and waited lazily for Tom to finish his speech. Today would be the day that fool would learn...

"...so, together we shall purge the world of mudblood filth, and show the muggles where they belong. Everyone's eyes shall be opened to the true social order of the world. Blood traitors and those muggle loving fools like Albus Dumbledore shall be dealt with accordingly, facing even worse fates than the muggles and mudbloods themselves. Under my command, wizards shall reclaim the centre of power worldwide, with me as their leader. Anyone who dares oppose us shall fall before the might of Lord Voldemort and his death eaters."

Even amidst the raucous cheering and thundering applause, the chuckle of Marc Jeaggerjaques was clearly audible. All eyes turned towards him. Bellatrix Lestrange was stuck somewhere between staring unbelievingly and incredulously at him and glaring daggers at him. He could see his so called 'best friend' attempting to hide his shock. He knew very well that said look of betrayal had nothing to do with their supposed friendship, but that it was due to the fact that one of Riddle's blind, unwavering followers had dared to laugh after his speech for seemingly no other reason; he took it as pure treachery. Marc knew that their entire friendship was a two way farce. Tom Marvolo Riddle did not want, need, and in effect, _have_ friends. He had seen Marc merely as a tool to be used to its fullest until breaking point or obsoletion, much in the same way as Marc had viewed him. Marc laughed a little more in his mind at the irony. Honestly, he and Riddle were practically one in the same, except that he was better looking, smarter, more skilled and, most importantly, a pureblood.

Tom Riddle tried to keep his composure in the face of what he deemed outright insubordination. He was quickly contemplating on his course of action. How could someone dare laugh at his speech? But he had told himself to keep calm; it was Marc. If it were any one of those bumbling, brainless idiots, he'd murder them there and then, to show that laughter of any kind, once not ordered, permitted or instigated by him, was not to be tolerated. But Tom Riddle was not stupid. He had already ranked his followers' worth and importance, and the three at the top of his list, who would suffer the least punishment for something like this were Marc, Bellatrix and Lucius, and by extension, maybe their family members. However, he doubted Bellatrix would _ever_ do such a thing. Lucius and Bellatrix would probably still be tortured a great deal for it, maybe he would have to make Marc pay the price also, to show that no one defies the dark lord, in however small a way. However, Marc was the most valuable of his followers; smart, sneaky, ambitious, wealthy, totally for the cause; a true Slytherin in every way. Really, if any one of his followers was to turn on him, there wouldn't be much cause for worry, unless of course, that follower was Marc; Marc, who knew everything about him, except his newest and most guarded secret. This was why he had always kept a slightly close watch on Marc, but the Jeaggerjaques was always so focussed on their goal. He thought Marc was just his biggest supporter, who was smart, and understood him the most. Marc was the last person to be against an anti-mudblood movement. This was the only reason, knowing Marc's abilities and ambitious nature, that Lord Voldemort didn't sleep with one eye open, that he didn't already try to dispose of Marc. Marc was his most valuable supporter. He hoped someone really did just tell a joke, and he wouldn't be forced to kill such a handy tool.

"Yes Marc? Something funny?" Tom Riddle asked his 'comrade'.

"Oh, well, you see Tom – "

"_Lord VOLDEMORT_," Riddle interjected. He couldn't let that one slide. He hated that name, and Marc of all people should have known better. In fact, Riddle could've sworn he saw Marc sneering as he said it, as if he were doing it just to annoy him. Something really was up. He reached for his wand beneath his robes, and curled his long fingers around the cool wood; it was a reassuring sensation, he was ready for whatever Marc could throw at him. But the blue eyed man only continued to speak.

"Yes, as I was saying _Tom_," Voldemort tightened his grip on the wand, and the other Death Eaters started closing in the circle around the two; they were sure Marc was purposefully defying their leader now. Marc went on, "I dare say I _did_ find your little speech a tad amusing."

Voldemort had strolled forward, his wand now at Marc's throat, his face distorted with rage.

"What exactly are you saying Jeaggerjaques, you no longer wish to follow the path we have chosen?"

Voldemort's anger and shock did not show in his voice. The only reason that he had not as yet painfully disposed of the newly apparent thorn in his side was because he needed to appease his curiousity; he needed to know exactly what was going on in Marc's head to gauge just how painful he should make his death. Also, he really wanted to know what had prompted this change of heart. He gazed intently into Marc's sapphire pools, searching, until –

"You know, doing that is useless. You can just stop now. As skilled as you are in legilimency, you can't get past my mental defences," and with a swish of his cloak, Marc was standing behind Voldemort, who was now the one being held at wandpoint.

"Impossible!"

"You don't believe, well then, try again," Marc responded, as if trying to humour a curious toddler.

Voldemort stared into the blue orbs once more, but try as he might, he could decipher none of what was hidden in their shining depths.

"What, but how? I have always been able to before!"

Marc scoffed. "Yeah, and that's why you _so_ saw this coming." He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through is brown locks again.

"So now, what to do?" Marc mused out loud, he looked at Voldemort and continued, "You want an explanation? Or should I kill you and present my big villainous reveal after, or should I let you die knowing why? Hmm..."

Marc stroked his chin in a mock thinking pose. The death eaters had not acted as yet as their leader did not instruct them to do so, but at his words, some of them didn't care anymore, and sprang into action to defend their lord. He gracefully side stepped a jet of orange light hurling towards him at the speed of, well, uh light. Orange light, duh. With the aid of his shield charm, he blocked a few others that were coming at him, and then he body binded Goyle, who was sneaking up on him from behind to attack, all in one graceful movement, and without uttering a single word.

"Impossible! You deflected the Cruciatus curse with a shield charm, how?"

Lucius Malfoy stared dumbfounded, Marc shot him an exasperated look.

"Now now people, would you please be calm, I don't want to render any of you unconscious before I give my speech!"

"Oh shut up, you insufferable jerk, you really think you can put a scratch on the Dark Lord?" Bellatrix Lestrange screamed, drawing closer to him with her pointed wand.

"Oh no, of course not," Marc replied, but then he added, "That would be like trying to step on an ant without crushing it." A sarcastic smiled stretched wide across his already overconfident visage. The circle of Death Eaters continued closing in, all of their wands raised.

"Aren't you even going to _try_ to defend yourself?" Bellatrix sneered, "Or have you conceded defeat?"

Marc just smiled his condescending smile. Then, as if on cue, five members stepped out of the ring of Death Eaters toward the centre, forming a smaller circle within. They about faced and turned their wands on the on coming throng of angry Death Eaters.

"Traitors!"

"Now now, please, I said that the fighting has to wait until after my speech!"

"We shall keep them in line my lord, please continue," said the only woman among the traitors.

"That is much appreciated, Pattron."

"_You're_ following that scum?" spat Bellatrix.

"Silence you nuisance, my lord is about to speak!" and with that, the Death Eater called Pattron shot a silencing charm at Lestrange, which hit it's mark. The other Death Eaters pointed their wands at Pattron, but all their attacks missed, due to her dodging, and a combined effect of her, and her comrades, deflection and superb wandwork.

She spoke, "Now that Bella is a little quiet – "

" – good god, I never thought I'd see the day, you need an award for that one Pattron," grinned one of her comrades.

"Why, thank you, Hendrix," she smiled at him, "Now, as I was saying, since some of the major annoyances have been dealt with, you shall stay still and listen to my lord, if you do not comply, the situation will never progress. The quicker you listen, the quicker we get to fight," she ended, with an insane grin.

The last line had reached the Death Eaters, but they did not change their stance. In the room, all the wands were drawn, both Riddle and Jeaggerjaques poised to strike at the other without a moment's notice. Everyone could see Bellatrix's mouth working furiously in protest, but no one heard a thing. Then the silence was broken by none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle himself.

"Let him speak, I am interested in his motives for treachery."

"Thank you, not that I needed your permission. Anyways – "

"Why have you turned the tables on us? Are you too scared to go through with the plan. Have you suddenly become a muggle lover?"

"Ahem," Marc cleared his throat, cutting off Voldemort, "No interruptions please, Tom."

Both men locked eyes, Voldemort clearly angry, and Marc, still smiling mischievously. Riddle said nothing else, so Marc continued, "I have not become a muggle loving fool as you have suggested, in fact, I have not deviated from _my_ plan one bit," Marc stated calmly. Before Voldemort could speak, he continued, "You see, I do believe muggles and mudbloods are below filth, not even fit to lick the grime off of my boots. And I do wish to reform the social order of this world, where purity of blood is prized above all else, as the most valued criteria in society. It just amuses me that you are deluded into thinking that a _half blood_ such as yourself should be the one to sit on the throne. You may be more worthy than a mudblood, but in the system, your rightful place is still _beneath ME_!"

"What, you wish to overthrow me and take my place at the top?"

"It is only fitting, and I am not overthrowing you _dear friend_, I have always been on the top!"

Marc saw that Voldemort was about to speak and cut him off.

"Yes Tom, it was your hatred that fuelled this entire _campaign_ of sorts, but it was my ambitions, my ideals, my influence that fuelled your hatred. You may have harboured evil intentions toward muggles before I met you, but you would not have taken those intentions and successfully acted on them thus far, had it not been for me. I dragged your hatred out of you and nurtured it, making sure it never dwindled. I was your advisor, and your pillar of support. I saw your potential and used it to my advantage. Who was it Tom, that was there with you, every step of the way, whispering in your ear, guiding you? It was I Tom, I! Who gave you the fullest, wholehearted support? Do you really think I'd put so much into sending someone else to the top? I had originally planned to let you do it all, keep my name clean til the last minute, lest any complications arose, but now I see that's not an option. I have to dispose of you now!"

"What? That's not true!"

"Yes it is Tom. This has always been my dream. I saw that I could use you and your hatred to make my dreams come true, so I did. I have always been the one in control, and now, as the purebloods reassert there superiority, I shall be the one to lead them! The seat of power will be mine! Oh, and I bet you're wondering why your oh-so-supreme legilimency skills never picked up on this? It's just another testament to how much better than you I am Tom! I opened my mind to you to the extent that I wanted and fed you false information, so that you wouldn't suspect a thing. And Tom, I have to say, I was disappointed by your falling for it every bit. Heir of Slytherin or not, you're still just a half blood, and a second rate one at that. Au revoir Tom, I shall be the one to come out on top."

Marc, stopping for a breath [_finally_], then turned to the death eaters and continued.

"Join me, as we work toward that goal, only this time, we shall do it properly, and you will have a more fitting, competent and handsome leader."

"..."

Some people lowered their wands, others were in deep thought and some were blinking confusedly. Crabbe was slapping himself on the cheek, no doubt checking to see if he was dreaming. Bellatrix was giving Marc the finger while attempting to shout profanities at him. Three people stepped forward and joined his group of five. He could see that some, like Bellatrix, Rabastan, Lucius and co. would never abandon _their lord_, but the others, they were waiting to see what he was made of, if he were just all talk. They would just side with whoever won the battle that was imminent. Bella and co. on the other hand would fight for Tom even after he died. He would just have to dispose of them quickly.

"Are you done?" Riddle asked. Unsurprisingly, Marc just smiled back [does he have a mode except for smiling?]. Voldemort continued, "Well, if all you say about you being the one to lead me down this path is true, I guess all that's left for me to say is... thanks Jeaggerjaques, and as you would say, _au revoir_."

He pointed his wand at Marc.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Marc raised his wand and yelled, "Ventus Battuo!"

They air particles surged forward with such force that they actually caused Voldemort's spell to bend and change trajectory. Voldemort was astounded, he had never seen such a thing, or even heard of it. Also, even if there was a spell to negate attacks in that way, if shouldn't be able to fully throw off the Avada Kedavra. Dodging another unknown curse, he realized that he couldn't stop to marvel at Marc's techniques. He had always known Marc was a genius, and apparently, that wasn't even the half of it. However, he did not fear that he would lose. With the blood of Salazar Slytherin running through his veins, and the skill and cunning he possessed, he couldn't lose. And even if that wasn't enough, he still had his secret weapon. And that was why, even though he had acknowledged that some of what Marc had said may have been true, that Marc might have influenced his actions, it had only been to a certain extent. For, when it came to his most important choices in life, he had made those entirely on his own, if not all, at least the most important one. He was absolutely sure that he was the only one who knew about his horcruxes. He doubted whether Marc, power hungry genius or not had even thought of dappling in dark magic such as that. Not going that extra mile, despite the fact that Tom _had_ done so would be Marc's undoing. _That cocky bastard, probably didn't even think he needed a backup, but better safe than sorry._

While Marc and Tom fought, blow for blow, neither paid heed to the Death Eaters around them. Crashes and screams could be heard, along with curses of both kinds. Though Marc's followers paled in numbers compared to Voldemort's army, they held their own well. Flashes of light could be seen in the background, but neither man noticed, they both concentrated only on their own fight. Their supporters would watch their backs. They both hand eyes and wands only for the other.

"Crucio!" Voldemort's voice echoed through the room.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Both men dodged the respective attacks but Marc caught Voldemort from the side with an unexpected curse whose name was not heard. The sickening orange flash sank into Voldemort's skin, ripping through flesh. Blood spurted from the newly formed gash down Riddle's front from shoulder to torso. The dark crimson droplets splattered on the floor. Screams of "Master!" and "You bastard!" could be heard throughout the room. Voldemort staggered a little, but remained upright, he was still firing curse after curse at Marc, but the pain in his body was impeding his aim somewhat. Marc landed another hit on him. This time Voldemort was engulfed in purple light. However, Marc had also fallen victim to one of the Dark Lord's spells. He felt the air around his neck pressing in, constricting his air passages. He was suffocating. He forced himself to drink in gulps of air, thinking that he couldn't die like that. He had no idea what the curse was, and knew no countercurse. He pointed his wand to his throat and simply willed the sensation away, concentrating hard on living. Meanwhile, Voldemort hovered a few inches above the ground, waves of pain coursing through his body; he was feeling as if he would explode from pain. By the time Marc recovered from the suffocation spell, and was refilling his lungs with life, he looked up to see Voldemort, barely standing, trembling. _Impossible, I designed that spell for an excruciating death from unbearable pain. I was right in not postponing this battle further, Tom is gaining strength quickly._ Both men tried their best to regain their composure, and not look astonished that the other was still standing.

Marc dodged two jinxes from the Death Eater crowd and then pointed his wand at Voldemort once more. With a flick, the other was thrown into a wall. In that instant, Marc had the opportunity to see Pattron and Hendrix take down five death eaters.

"Now you two, we can't have you depleting my potential force too much now can we?" he chuckled, then he turned to Riddle who was righting himself. "Tom, do you finally see the difference between you and I, are you ready to die?"

"Marc, these bruises mean nothing. I _know_ the difference between you and I, and because of that, I am positive that no matter what, you'll be the one to die. Nothing you throw at me can kill me!"

"Is that so, what say we test that hypothesis," he pointed his wand at the battered form of Riddle, still breathing profusely, "Avada – "

Before Marc could finish, he flew forward, knocking over a couple unsuspecting death eaters.

"You bastard!"

All heads turned toward the unfamiliar voice. In the heat of the moment, no one had even noticed that the door to the hall had been thrown open. Framed in the doorway was a girl, a teenager nonetheless. She had honey coloured hair that reach her mid back and deep amethyst eyes. Her wand was pointed exactly where Marc had been standing before and on her face shone anger, determination, and most of all, hatred. Outside the door, one guard laid battered and unconscious, the other dead. For once in his life, Tom Riddle was at a loss. He was putting all his energy into resisting the urge to facepalm, fling his wand into the air, say 'I give up' and fade into oblivion, all the while trying to keep his eyes from bulging in surprise at the interruption. Really, couldn't someone try to take over the world and suppress a lesser class of people without being interrupted? First, it was his supposed most loyal follower, now some little girl? Really. Did fate hate him? Also, he didn't know what to do, kill her, leave her to the Death Eaters, ignore her for the while. Everyone else in the room was too stunned to make a move either. They had no idea who the girl was, or why she had a death wish.

Then, Voldemort didn't have to wonder what to do anymore. She made the decision for him; she began walking into the room, wand still raised, a manic glint in her eyes. This prompted action. However, she managed to avoid or counter the sea of curses flying toward her, even taking down a few death eaters. She walked right past Voldemort, however, in the direction of where Marc had landed. Voldemort was a bit relieved; because he was pretty sure in his state of shock his reaction would have been slower than usual.

Marc got up and broke the still of the night.

"Ah, Rosalie, that wasn't very noble, now was it? Attacking while your opponent's back is turned."

"Screw honour, I just want you dead!"

Voldemort looked on, seizing the little break granted to him to heal his wounds. No one made a move, everyone in the room had forgotten their own battles, too eager to see the scene before them unfold. Who was this girl, and why did she want Marc dead?

"You do realize you just waltzed into a room full of Death Eaters, right? I thought you were supposed to be smart?"

"Yeah, well, lucky for me you guys seem to be having a little... disagreement. Plus, your security sucks."

"You took out _all_ of my guards?" Lucius Malfoy paled.

"Relax, some are still living, just unconscious. I had a feeling some of the ones patrolling the grounds and what not are not directly involved in your sick little cult, so I spared them. I only came here to kill one person, Marc Jeaggerjaques."

"You think you can kill me? Quite the little avenger, aren't you?"

"Shut up Marc, I'll make you pay!" And without further ado, she turned her wand on him, a beam of violet light heading straight for his torso. He couldn't dodge in time but he returned the shot with a yellow beam. Both attacks met, and seemed to struggle against each other for some time, then when neither could make the other budge, the pressure around the attacks released, and there was a huge blast from the point where the attacks met, outwards in every direction. Lucius Malfoy stared horrorstruck at his scorched furniture, the craters in his walls and all the debris in the room which were once his possessions. Even some people had been burnt slightly, or suffered bruises, some had been knocked to the floor. With another flash of light, Rosalie found herself bound by thick ropes. She struggled against them, but they wouldn't budge.

"Seeing how merciful I am, I'll put you out of your misery quickly Rosalie."

Before Marc could strike, though Rosalie's arms were bound, she still managed to shoot a spell in Marc's direction. Marc couldn't see the attack, but he sensed the stream of pressurized air coming toward him in time and side stepped. The spell only managed to leave a small cut on the side of his face. He turned back to Rosalie, ready to smirk at a desperate attempt, but what he saw surprised him. Though she was still bound, she was staring in his direction, smiling, while still fidgeting with the ropes. He realized what was happening, but not fast enough. The spell that had missed him had hit the pillar behind him, which was now crumbling down right onto him. He tried to escape, and while he managed to avoid the majority of the rubble, he still had not escaped uninjured. His right arm had been hit, he wasn't sure if it was broken, and he sprained his left ankle when running and tripping on a piece of fallen stonework. But they were minor injuries.

Rosalie had freed herself from her confinements, once again shooting a beam of violet light towards him. He blocked it.

"You really think you can win by coming at me head on with the same old tricks?"

Just as a blue beam hit him from the side, he heard Rosalie state clearly from that direction, "Of course not."

He screamed as he was subject to searing pain. His entire body felt as though on fire, and every now and then, he'd feel a slice, and a gash would appear somewhere on his body, gushing blood.

Rosalie took the moment to disarm him. "Expelliarmus!"

His wand flew out of his hand and landed about a foot away. Then the effect of the spell let up. Marc was shaking a little, his robes stained with blood. He watched his wand lying on the floor.

"Foolish girl," he merely raised his arm, and the wand shot towards him, returning to his outstretched palm, "You will pay for that!"

He pointed at her and shouted the incantation.

She yelled "Protego!" but her shield charm could not hold off the offending attack. She shot through the crowd of Death Eaters and was pinned to the back wall. The forced of the spell was crushing her into the wall, and Marc was beginning to steadily increase the pressure. She struggled to fight it off, but to no avail. She pointed her wand toward herself, concentrating hard on her shield charm, attempting to form and maintain some form of protection around her body, as the air had already been force out of her lungs, and she was already beginning to feel intense stress on her bones. She was sure pretty soon something would snap. Thankfully, she managed to pull of the shield charm, and, though weak against Marc's attack, it still offered some protection. The pressure on her body had lessened somewhat. She still felt like a giant was stepping on her, but she no longer felt such pressure on her bones, pushing on them, making them feel as though they would all give way in an instant. Marc started increasing the pressure once again, she could feel it. Thankfully, she was cushioned by the little capsule the shield charm had formed around her. The spell however was still pressing her and her little capsule into the wall, and try as she might she could not break it, and maintain her shield charm at the same time.

The wall behind her began to crack. The cracks emerged like little tendrils from the centre where she was being held against the wall, and spread out. Then Marc raised his wand and, anticipating what was coming, she acted quickly. The exact moment he had yelled "Avada Kedavra" she screamed out, "Rego". The jet of green light that was the killing curse shot toward her, but disappeared in mid air, intercepted by a rift of darkness that had appeared in the atmosphere. Another rift opened nearby, and the spell shot back out in another direction, hitting one of Marc's followers.

Marc was astounded, as was everyone else in the room. Someone had just countered the killing curse. In his moment of shock, Marc had let up on the pressure being exerted on Rosalie. She seized the opportunity, and with a surge of strength and determination, she broke free. She attempted to hit him with the body bind spell, but he had snapped back to his senses before the curse could make contact.

"How did you do that? What's the concept behind that spell, teleportation?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets!" she roared

They stared at each other a little longer, both trying to regain their footing in this never ending battle. The spell from before had taken quite a toll on Rosalie's body, and she was gasping for breath still. Marc was too concerned with the spell she had used to think about anything else.

"Well, it seems that I'm not the only one using his free time to invent advanced and useful spells."

"Ha!" she spat, "Don't try to compare us! I haven't had free time for a year now. And I didn't just invent these spells thinking about what poor innocent soul I could torture. For the past year, I've been searching for you, researching, training, learning new spells, and creating some, so that I'd be sure I was able to kill _you_. After all, you can't be too prepared when facing the scum that killed his own family, without a hint of remorse. You need everything when going up against a monster like you!" she roared.

"You little half blood! You dare to call _me_ scum!" he yelled, enraged. He raised his wand and angry flames erupted from the tip, rushing toward her like a giant orange and red wave. She countered, a jet of water erupting from her wand and turned into a giant surge. She had cast the spell when Marc's flames were nearly upon her. The room was clouded in steam for a while. When it cleared, Rosalie was standing there, an angry burn on her left forearm, but she seemed not to notice.

"Serpensortia!" Marc yelled, an acid green snake appearing on the floor in front of him. The snake was gigantic. It's huge body lay on the floor, massive coils glistening in the moonlight coming through one of the broken windows.

"Kill her!" Marc spoke in parseltongue. The entire room watched on in awe. No one, not even Voldemort or Rosalie, had known Marc was a parselmouth. The snake slithered toward Rosalie at and astounding speed. She ran, trying to avoid it. Marc wasn't just sitting back and enjoying the show. While Rosalie ran, he followed her every movement, shooting spell after spell at her. She tried her best to block them, but she couldn't quite concentrate on Marc and the snake at the same time. She had acquired a few cuts and bruises, and a paralyzed left leg from the spells that she had not completely avoided. With the left leg impeding her speed, the snake had her. It started to coil around her leg, the good one, cutting off her blood flow. But the snake was at close range now.

"Avada Kedavra!" the snake's fangs had only slightly broken through skin when it dropped limply to the ground. Rosalie only noticed the slight sting in her leg. Lifting herself from the ground, and restoring use to her left leg, she faced Marc again. "Avis!" she cried, as she conjured a small flock of birds in the air. There were ten in total.

"Birds? Ha!" Marc said.

The birds dived toward him. He took out two with a killing curse, and petrified another, but they were small and fast. The others swopped down and began pecking him, on his head, face and arms. He didn't dare try to kill them, because there was a great chance he would miss and hit himself instead. He tried his best to ignore the birds fluttering around him, while he dodged another killing curse from Rosalie. He returned her shot with one, which she avoided. Soon the bird s disappeared, and he was free to concentrate again. Rosalie pointed her wand at him, going for the direct attack once more. Another killing curse was shot. Needless to say, he dodged it, and was careful to be alert for and attacks she might shoot directly after, but none came. He thought she had missed, because he did see her point her wand, but her aim was a little off. She attacked from the front once more with the same blue curse she had hit him with in the beginning of the battle. He shot a killing curse toward it, his muscles too sore to dodge. Then he felt it, searing pain, as something skewered him through, passing straight on. Her previous curse had not missed, because she was not aiming at him. She had summoned a poker from near the fireplace and directed it to stab him from behind. As the metal rod pierced through his chest from the back, and emerged through the front, he attempted shooting spells to at least take her down too, but the pain was blinding him, and he missed. She disarmed him once more, and stepped over to the bleeding body. He lay on the floor, coughing up blood. He was attempting to move his arm to summon his wand, but she stepped on his hand. "The poker ran through your heart, you're as good as dead, but just to be sure..."

She pointed her wand at his throat. "Remember me while you're rotting in hell, Marc. Remember all your sins, try to repent for them, though I doubt it'd ever be enough. Remember what you did to you family, and remember me, the girl who killed you, the girl whose life you destroyed, Rosalie Tonérre. And don't you even think about putting one foot out of line in hell, cuz I'll be following right behind soon enough to ensure you don't find an escape." With that, she ended the monologue, and the jet of green light from her wand ended his life. She wasn't joking when she said she'd be following, the snake's venom had spread now, and she could feel the waves of pain raking through her entire body. She could barely move her right leg, her time was nearly up, but she had done what she came to do.

During her speech, the woman called Pattron had tried to attack her, but she had disposed of the nuisance. Apparently even after watching that entire battle, the stupid woman didn't think to dodge when Rosalie fired a killing curse her way. Now, the fair girl who was now covered in blood stood in a room full of Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord himself.

"While I must admit that you are skilled, and you have helped me, you must die now. Surely you did realize that the moment you walked into the room, you walked to your death." Voldemort raised his wand.

...

Marc Jeaggerjaques stood, watching the scene before him. He saw himself, lying on the floor, bloody and beaten, the little halfblood being addressed by Tom.

"I don't mind dying, a long as I got to kill him, and drag down as many of you bastards with me as I can! Especially you, after Marc, you're to blame for everything!" She shouted the last part at Riddle.

Marc noticed their was a chain coming out of his chest, he also noticed that he wasn't like a ghost, he was something different, while the girl and Tom prepared to fight, he wondered if he was really dead, or if something had gone wrong with the spell. Just then, two gigantic gates appeared out of no where. They opened, and Marc found himself being pulled in. Try as he might, he could not resist the force. As he passed through the gates, they closed shut and disappeared. No one had noticed anything.

...

All the death eaters pointed their wands at Rosalie, along with Voldemort. She raised hers also. Every single person in the room fired a killing curse at her. She attempted to dodged, but it was impossible to evade them all. However, before the curses that dealt the final blow had made contact, Rosalie had managed to shoot a string of spells in every direction, and quite a few made contact. Illuminated by green light, she gracefully sank to the floor. The last thing her eyes saw before death was an image of Voldemort, who, in all the chaos, had managed to fall victim to a cruciatus curse she had shot. A smile graced her lips.

...

Rosalie stood up, dazed and confused, then, she noticed she was still in the room full of death eaters. She jumped, when she noticed that she was standing next to herself on the floor. The only difference between herself and the Rosalie on the floor, aside from the fact that that one was clearly nowhere near consciousness, was that she had a chain attached to her chest. Rosalie had no idea where this came from. She looked around the room, no one seemed to notice her, no one except for one other person with a chain also coming out from his chest. He just stared at her. Voldemort turned to his remaining death eaters.

"Now, to deal with the traitors." With flashes of green light, Rosalie saw six people fall to the floor. Then she saw it, they were like her. An exact replica of all the dead bodies stood in the room, a chain attached to each of their chests. She heard Voldemort order his men to dispose of the bodies. Hers and Marc's were to be taken to his house to make it look as though they'd had a fight and killed each other, which wasn't too far from the truth.

She noticed a giant set of gates appear in the room. No one but the souls, that's what she assumed they were, noticed it. They opened and pulled in all the death eater souls except one, the same one who had been staring at her before. Compared to the others, he was young and scared. She wondered how he ended up with such a shady group, but judging from the fact that he remained behind, she concluded that he wasn't totally evil like the others, probably just misguided. He noticed she was staring at him and started to back away. Then, they heard an ungodly howl from the grounds. Rosalie picked up the nearest form of defence, which was Marc's wand, and held it at the ready. Cautiously, she made her way toward the window, trying to locate the sound. Rosalie had killed three guards total, because they just wouldn't let up and let her pass, and because she was pretty sure each of them were death eaters. She had spared the others who she thought didn't know what was going on, that they were just doing their job of guarding Malfoy Manor. Looking at the grounds, she saw the soul of one of them. The other two were nowhere in sight, they had probably already been gated away. But something was wrong. He started spewing white substance from his mouth, which began covering his face, forming a mask. As its body mutated into a grotesque shape, forming a horrid creature with a white mask, she saw the little death eater soul shuddering.

"W..what's h..hap..pening?" he stuttered, clutching Rosalie's robes and going pale, apparently forgetting that he was scared of her.

"I don't know."

Just then, the figure turned to face them, and howled again. Then it began to charge in their direction.

"Come on!" she said, grabbing the boy who was probably around her age, and running for the door.

She heard Lucius Malfoy talking about all the repairs he'd have to do, when the creature bounded through the window, cracking the wall further.

"See, the place is still falling to bits even after it's all over, Narcissa is going to kill me!"

Rosalie shot a stunner at the monster, but aside from confusing it for a moment, it had no effect. The monster chased them around the room, it wasn't too smart, so running in zig zag was effective to some extent.

"Sooo hungryyy!" it graoned.

"Oh god, it's going to eat us!" the boy screamed.

"No, just keep running!" Rosalie insisted, firing spell after spell at it. At first it seemed like the spells had no effect, but after a while, she managed to cut off one of its legs with a slicing curse. Then she used a confundus charm to confuse it. Not matter how she assaulted its body with curses, the creature wouldn't fall.

"Why don't you aim for the hole, or its mask?" the boy asked, desperate for a means to kill the hideous thing. She took the suggestion. A large gash appeared in the creatures mask, and as it spewed blood, the creature disintegrated into nothingness.

"A..are we g..gonna become like that?" the boy voiced exactly what Rosalie had been thinking. She just shook her head before she replied.

"I hope not."

They both sat in a corner of the room, still shaking. Finally, Rosalie broke the silence.

"So, what's your name?"

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment, then answered, "Hanatarou Yamada."

"Strange name, it's not English, right?"

"Nope, it's Japanese. I'm half, on my mother's side."

"Well, Hanatarou, I think we should leave, I have absolutely no idea what we should do next, but I don't want to stay here. You coming with."

"Yeah, I don't want to run into one of those things alone."

He got up and followed her out of the room. As they made their way through the house, they continued to talk.

"So, um, why are you a death eater?"

He hung his head. "Well, they asked me to join. At first I said no, but then they threatened to kill my mother and my sister. I couldn't fight them off, so I complied. My dad was a really great wizard when he was alive, so I suppose they thought I'd be awesome too, but I'm practically a squib. The only spells I'm actually somewhat adept at are healing spells, I suck at everything else. Some of them just started using me as a practice dummy, or a servant. I think if I didn't show signs of promise soon, they were going to kill me anyways."

Rosalie was furious. "Those people are horrible. How can they do things like that? Plus, I think you'd be great if you had some more self confidence, hell, you're greater than anyone of them already! And healing is a very important skill! Hmpf!"

He smiled a little. They reached the ground of Malfoy Manor, and stepped into the night.

"Let's be friends," she said, holding out her hand. He took it and shook, smiling a little.

Just then, they saw a man standing before them. He wore a black trench coat over a dark blue shirt, and black pants. Strapped at his waist was a sheathed sword. They wondered who the hell he was, and why he had a sword. Was he an assassin for Voldemort, specializing in killing muggles to make it look like wizards were not involved?

"Hey, you two," he said. They looked around, but they didn't see anyone. Rosalie spoke up, "Are you speaking to us?"

"Yeah."

"You can see us?"

"Uhuh. I'm a death god."

"What?"

"It's true. Now, you two seen a big monster with a mask and a hole in its chest anywhere. I swear, my locator said there was one here, but I can't find it."

"Yeah, we, um, killed it."

"You _killed_ it, are you sure?"

"Uhuh."

"But that's my job!"

"We had no choice, it was going to kill us."

"It's fine. You're just really lucky you succeeded. How on earth did you do that. Nevermind, now for the second part of my job."

He drew his sword. The both stepped back. Rosalie tightened her grip on Marc's wand.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."

Hanatarou just stared at the sword, while Rosalie said, "Says the _death god_ with the huge ass _sword_."

"Come on, I'm just going to send you to soul society, the afterlife."

"Soul Society?"

"Yeah, you wouldn't want to stay here and be attacked by more hollows, now would you?"

Hanatarou gulped.

"So, come. I'm just going to tap your forehead with my hilt, and you'll be on your way."

They complied, and as he did so, Hanatarou grabbed onto Rosalie's hand. They faded, and two black butterflies appeared to guide them.

...

The bodies of Marc Jeaggerjaques and Rosalie Tonnérre lay on the floor of Marc's living room. The death eaters had effectively thrashed the room to make it appear like a fight had occurred. They couldn't find Marc's wand however, so they placed that of one of the fallen death eaters in his hand. No one knew where the wand had gone.

When they left, a little figure popped out of the air. It was short, with bat like ears, and a snoutish nose. It knelt before Rosalie, and began to weep.

"Milady, at least you killed him."

Then, surprisingly, the little creature scooped her up without any effort. He then turned toward Marc, a mixture or anger, hatred, scorn and pity in its eyes. Then, with a pop, it disappeared.

**Well that's the prologue. Just to straighten things out, yes, Grimmjow is the main character, not Hanatarou. Oh, and the guy's clothes were different cuz he's an English soul reaper. And I think it would be pretty stupid for English souls to go to only an English after life, and reincarnate as English people again, so I decided to make it a random process. After a soul burial, the souls can end up in any afterlife, that's how Rosalie and Hanatarou are gonna end up in the bleach soul society. They ended up together in the afterlife still, cuz he was holding on to her when the soul burial was performed. Things about the actual story will start soon, and clear up any possible confusion you have. So, anyone like where this story is going? [not that you really get much of where it's going from this chapter]. I need feed back on whether to continue. Oh, and sorry if the fight scenes were lame, not so good at them, but I tried.**


	2. Alive

ALIVE

_**It may have taken a zanpakuto piercing his body from behind so a bastard could undermine him and take over his fight, and being flung into the desert to die, forgotten, to get Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques to fully open his eyes, but when he finally did, he sure as hell did like what he was seeing.**_

Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques lay on the formerly white sands of Hueco Mundo; the area where he lay was dyed crimson from the blood gushing out of the wound in his mid section. He was going. What a way to die, forgotten on the battle by comrade and enemy alike, not even able to finish his last fight. It was just another example of how little everyone thought of him; no form of acknowledgement whatsoever. No one even bothered to ensure that he was actually done for before moving on. Lying on the ground, awaiting death, all alone, only one thing was going through his mind, he was fed up. Fed up with it all; especially Aizen.

Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques couldn't take it anymore. He was at his last straw with Aizen and the whole becoming god thing. He had had enough. Enough of the man's orders, his condescending looks, his manipulation and most of all his plans. Enough of working for him. Being on his death bed may not have been the prime time to realize the he wanted out, he wanted freedom, to live for something else, and make something more of his life, but at least he did. He was not going to die oblivious of his own true desire.

Grimmjow had never really liked Aizen, nor supported his efforts, but now, he wanted nothing to do with them. He looked back at his life, wondering how on earth it had ended up like this. As a hollow in hueco mundo, Grimmjow had always felt lost, all he knew was his desire for power and acknowledgement and he clung to that, if only to justify his existence. So when Aizen had recruited him with the promise of power, he had accepted. From the beginning, both he and his 'leader' had an understanding; Grimmjow felt no compelling loyalty to Aizen whatsoever. He was in it for the power.

Aizen was fine with this, for Grimmjow had great potential and he thought that sooner or later, Grimmjow would come to serve him faithfully, and for now, fear more or less kept him in check. All in all Grimmjow had come to be more or less content with life in Las Noches, it was interesting, to say the least, which made up for the fact that he had to be around people like Ulquiorra, Szayel, Aizen and Gin, just to name a few.

He remembered, when he had now become a hollow, he had been overcome with misery, a sense of emptiness that had been clawing at him from the inside, ripping apart his none existent heart, and an insatiable hunger. A hunger for meaning in his life, a hunger for a reason to exist, a hunger for freedom; a hunger to live, not to simply be alive, but to live. Life was painful, boring. Each day was just about finding another hollow to eat [Grimmjow had always refrained from hunting and eating human souls, he told himself that it was because he thought that was below him, as he thought them too weak] in order to support his empty existence; it was all he had to live for. Why did he want to survive this hell hole? Even he didn't know, but he was determined to do it anyway. He thought it was in order to show his strength, to prove to whoever was testing him that he could best it all.

Then, when he had met the others like Yldforte, Shaolong and Di-Roy, things had improved a little. At least he had company, and a definite goal to work toward now. Then came Aizen. Living in Las Noches, with his companions as fracciones was nice. And he had a bunch of strong arrancar at his disposal to choose from whenever he wanted to have fun and challenge himself.

When the war started, he thought things would get even more interesting, and he was proved right, especially by the existence of one Kurosaki Ichigo. Grimmjow grinned at the thought. Kurosaki was a great rival, a strong and determined kid too; admirable characteristics.

_Hey, why did I want to kill him so badly again? I know I always wanted to fight him for the fun, and to prove myself, but kill him?_

_**Because, that's how it works. In order to prove yourself, you thought you had to kill him. Life in hueco mundo has always been a battle to the death.**_

_Yeah, but why? I mean, he's just trying to save everyone… wait, nevermind, this has got to be the pain talking._

The voice in his mind chuckled before continuing.

_**Maybe you were just trying to show him that no matter how hard you try sometimes you **_**can't**_** save everyone, life isn't that simple. Plus, I think you wanted him to kill you and prove you wrong.**_

_What? You're sayin I'm suicidal?_

_**Nope, I'm just saying life here sucks, and you didn't want to go out at the hands of a bastard like Aizen, which you know it would've most likely come down to eventually, cuz we both know you were never going to become the humble loyal servant he was hoping you would, and you'd never fully go along with his plans. So you chose someone whose hands you didn't mind dying by.**_

_Yep, definitely suicidal!_

_**Interpret it as you wish, but you can't deny it.**_

_Well, anyways, if that was the plan, it didn't really happen like it was supposed to, huh? I'm still dying at the hands of a little shithead, maybe Aizen would've been better, at least he was a big one._

At the thought of Aizen, Grimmjow's temper skyrocketed. He had never liked or respected the man, Aizen was just a big bully, with a serious superiority complex. But it was only now, lying here, waiting for death, after being stabbed in the back by scum like Nnoitra, that Grimmjow realized. He realized why he felt the constant need to disobey Aizen, why he felt reluctant to carry out Aizen's orders, why he wanted enough power to dethrone the bastard eventually. It wasn't because, as he had originally told himself when faced with these questions, that he wanted the seat of power for himself. He actually didn't give a damn about that. He never wanted to rule anyone, he just didn't want anyone to rule him. It wasn't even solely because of his pride. It was because he couldn't stand self important bastards who thought the world should and did revolve around them, and Aizen was the epitome of that. Then he realized that, more so, he hated that Aizen was killing innocent people just to make himself god, but the realization that struck him the hardest was that he was an accessory to it all. His instincts to fight, to escape boredom, to gain power had all clouded his mind. He had sat back and watched as Aizen planned to kill a town full of people for a _key_! He also followed orders from the bastard and helped to attack said town. He had let himself be used, let his mind be fogged, just so some power hungry maniac could threaten lives and take over the worlds. Grimmjow mustered enough energy to let out an audible groan of anger.

_Shit, that hurt!_

He couldn't take it, he couldn't believe he let himself be controlled by Aizen. And that was how Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques had realized he had had enough! Enough of Aizen, enough of this meaningless war. It was stupid. Aizen was just selfish and evil.

_I hope Kurosaki kills him!_

_**So you're gonna let him steal all the glory and fun?**_

_Yeah, what else can I do, at least that bastard'll die._

_**Hmm. So you're not even gonna try to clean up this mess you had a hand in making? Or at least show Aizen that he doesn't control you? I'm disappointed…**_

_Shut the hell up!_

Grimmjow gathered his energy, and, taxing his muscles to the max, heaved his bloody form off the ground. He could almost _hear _the voice in his head smirk. He definitely did hear the smugness in it when it next spoke.

_**I see you've finally come to your senses.**_

Grimmjow didn't have much energy left, his reiatsu was practically none existent. But he knew for sure that he was the only Espada left, he could feel it. He had sensed when Ulquiorra's reiatsu had disappeared from above the dome, then Yammy's went out too, eventually, and for some unexplainable reason, he just knew the others out in the human world had met the same fate.

_And I bet Aizen doesn't even care one bit._

_**Of course not. You were all just tools to him.**_

Grimmjow snarled. While he had never really liked his comrades, hell, he even _wanted_ some of them dead, he couldn't help but feel his hatred for Aizen rise to new levels, and to feel sympathy for them. They too had probably been misguided and lost, drawn to Aizen because of the beacon of power that he was. Many of them definitely didn't strike Grimmjow as evil, especially not in the take over the world kind of way. They were just contented to live life. A life they thought Aizen had provided for them, and would maintain if they stuck with him, and thus, they worshipped him. But he didn't give a damn about them. He had manipulated them all. Grimmjow gave a snarl of fury, and drawing energy from the wave of hatred and determination that had suddenly washed over him, he ripped open the fabric of space, and stepped through the garganta.

He would show them all, especially Aizen. Show them that he obeyed no one, that he had to live up to no one's expectations, that he and he alone was in control of himself. Hollow or not, it didn't matter. What mattered was what he believed in, what he thought was right, and from now on, that would be what he fought for. That was when he realized, why, no matter how many fights he had had and won, he had never felt fulfilled or content, and had continued to search for more. All those fights were empty, despite what he had thought at the time, his heart wasn't in them, he did it just to relieve the boredom, the reason wasn't strong enough. He had still been searching. Searching to find himself. But now, like lightning, it had struck him. He had found it, the thoughts and feelings that fuelled the fire in the eyes of the _real_ Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques. No longer was he hopelessly empty. He had found a reason to fight, and now, he knew why he had always had such a strong desire for power. It was to protect. To protect what he thought was right, what he thought was worth fighting for. To uphold his beliefs and values. To preserve his ideals, and to prevent that terrible emptiness from spreading further. Even though this would most likely be his last fight, he knew he had now truly begun to live, and it was an exhilarating feeling. It was thrilling, comforting, terrifying and heart warming all at the same time. He was ALIVE.

It was ironic that it really turned out to be because of Aizen that he had filled some of the emptiness inside and found some meaning for his existence. He had something to live for, to cling to. The feelings were foreign, but he felt as if they were so natural to him. He welcomed them as they flooded his entire being. Standing straight in a determined pose, forgetting about his wounds and fatigue, Grimmjow stepped out of the garganta, his eyes ablaze, all his newfound emotions swimming in their blue depths.

…

In fake Karakura town, the battle raged. All the espada were down, and yet the battle only seemed to get tougher. Ichigo was fighting Gin [more like standing around with him and watching Aizen's fight] while Isshin, Kisuke and Yoruichi were _trying_ to fight Aizen. They were no match. Together with the hyogoukou, Aizen was proving to be almost unstoppable. Engrossed with the battle at hand, no one noticed the garganta that had appeared in the sky. Grimmjow's unsubstantial reiatsu also went unnoticed. Aizen was countering every move any of his three opponents threw at him. Then, he spoke, saying that he'd make them understand his power. Whilst Gin was taunting Ichigo to run, Aizen took down his three opponents. He moved toward Gin and Ichigo, telling his comrade that they'd go to the Karakura Town in Soul Society instead of breaking the barriers.

…

Grimmjow looked at the scene revealed to him when the garganta opened. Ichigo and Gin were switching between staring at each other to staring at four other people. Everyone else present was also doing the latter. He looked at the four people. There was Urahara Kisuke, Shihoin Yoruichi, a man he didn't know and… _what the hell is that?_

_Wait, did they just say Aizen? Oh yeah, listen to the arrogant bastard speak, it's him alright._

Then the man he didn't know spoke, "Getsuga – "

_No way in hell!_

" – Tensho!"

_Okay, I missed some serious stuff!_

Grimmjow had been on the receiving end of said attack too many times to not recognize it. But how the hell was this guy using Ichigo's attack? Aizen was unscathed after being hit with the attack, and in the process of subduing his opponents. After regaining his bearings, Grimmjow was about to charge, when the thing – Aizen – started to change, after turning towards Gin and Ichigo and addressing them both. The creepy looking exterior began to fall away, and out emerged Aizen – cocky smile and all – except it wasn't quite Aizen. His hair was longer, his expression even more overconfident and condescending, if that were possible, but most noticeable were his eyes. His eyes were no longer the usual coppery brown.

They were different.

Like Kurosaki's, when his hollow took over, black sclera and all.

Grimmjow snapped out of his daze when he registered that Aizen had said he was going to Karakura Town… _in Soul Society!_ Eh? Then he turned to Ichigo and spoke. Simultaneously, Grimmjow took action; he wasn't about to let Aizen escape and cause more trouble; he wasn't going out without at least trying first.

…..

"…And I'll eat you afterwards." As soon as Aizen finished talking to Ichigo, he had to hastily sidestep a blue blur hurling toward him at hyperspeed; the incoming figure of Grimmjow.

"You bastard! You're not going anywhere!"

Pantera and Kyouka Suigetsu clashed several times, seen only as flashes of reflected light.

Grimmjow's fierce determination and the fact that everyone could barely sense him due to his drained reiatsu, coupled with Aizen's overconfidence was what allowed him even the slightest chance of getting their swords to connect. As a great Kuchiki once said 'Arrogance is often the undoing of a would be victor', never mind the outrageous hypocrisy that it was an arrogant bastard himself who said it.

Everyone in the vicinity was dumbfounded.

Why?

Well, one; no one saw _that_ coming. Surprise surprise!

Two; OMG, someone actually almost got a hit on Aizen's shoulder and kept up enough to exchange quite a few blows with him.

And three; it was an Espada! Deranged, psychotic, murderous maniac himself, Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques.

Ichigo's eyes were wide.

It took him a while to finally comprehend the scene before him.

"Grimmjow, what the – " he began, surprise evident in his voice, but was cut off by Aizen.

"Ah, it seems I missed one. Should I leave him for you to play with, or should I kill him now?" he said to Ichigo. Grimmjow snarled.

"I'm here for you, you bastard!" he said, pointing at Aizen.

"Fine, you shall die now, if that is what you want."

Aizen appeared behind Grimmjow, his sword moving speedily, already at Grimmjow's neck. Grimmjow didn't have time to think, or try to dodge, as it all happened so fast, and the blade was already upon him, so, instead, he shot a cero over his shoulder, hoping to at least get that one shot in, as Aizen was at close range, and braced himself for the attack that was less than a nanosecond away.

However, it never came.

Aizen never felt his blade rip through the flesh and arteries of the Sexta Espada. His blade never even made contact.

It was all due to the fact that he was met with resistance by what seemed to be an invisible barrier. Grimmjow was surprised, but didn't question his good fortune. In the time that he had somehow managed to buy, he sonidoed a distance away from Aizen and turned to face him just in time to see the life saving force field shatter after prolonged contact with Aizen's zanpakuto.

Aizen smiled at Grimmjow.

"Interesting, I had no idea you had such abilities Grimmjow," a sliver of curiosity danced in the now black depths of his eyes but was soon replaced by the usual arrogance, "But no matter, whatever that ability was, it could never be a match for me."

Grimmjow, in actuality, had no idea what had just happened, he wasn't even sure if he was the one who did it, but there was no need to tell Aizen that.

"You barely have enough strength to stand, Grimmjow, let me end your pitiful existence now."

While each word Aizen uttered was meant to be mocking and discouraging, the effect they had on the Sexta Espada were quite opposite than intended. Each syllable out of the pseudo-god's mouth only served to fuel Grimmjow's determination to cut the man down further. He gathered the dregs of reiatsu flowing weakly through his body, and with energy he didn't know he had, he shouted, "Grind, Pantera!" His hair lengthened, as did his claws, gone was his jawbone mask, replaced by a forehead protector and plates of bonelike armour covering his body. Fierce determination shone in his eyes, as he shouted "Dessgaron!" and pointed at Aizen.

Aizen sidestepped the beam of energy with ease.

Grimmjow continued to unload a barrage of attacks on the man before him, but they had no effect. All the while, he was attempting to avoid Aizen's attacks. Miraculously, he had only acquired a few minor injuries, but he knew he was already way past his limit.

"It's time we end this meaningless little game," Aizen said, raising his zanpakuto, "Shatter – "

Aizen was about to release his zanpakuto, Grimmjow knew that no one would stand a chance against him if he did so, not that they really did even if he didn't. He also knew that the man could very well kill him without having to release his zanpakuto. In the miniscule amount of time between Aizen's words, Grimmjow's mind had begun working at an astoundingly fast rate. Thoughts flew in and out of his brain at speeds one would think impossible!

_Hmpf! He just wants to show off!_

Grimmjow was sure of one thing at the moment; he had to stop Aizen from attacking. He had to, but he had absolutely no idea how. His brain was in overdrive, searching frantically for answers. He had never thought so much, much less in so little time, before. He didn't even think it was possible. But try as he might, he could find no solutions to the problem. He could only be glad that time outside of his mind seemed to be moving in slow motion, so he could try to think.

" – Kyouka – "

_Damnit! I don't have time!_

As his panic kicked up a notch, Grimmjow could no longer keep his thoughts in check. They began whizzing around haphazardly, not giving him time to make sense of any. He was beginning to get a headache, and could no longer focus on the issue, while his mind seemed to have totally lost it. It was processing too much, and too fast, and not even information pertaining to the current predicament. It was straying, aimlessly, to anything and everything, from chocolate cake to his last fight with Ichigo.

Then suddenly, a random scene flashed through his mind. He had no idea where it came from. Did his mind finally snap? Was his mind beginning to put together imaginary and absurd scenes because of all the pressure he was under?

In the scene, there was a boy sitting under a tree. Grimmjow couldn't see the face, but the boy had a head of brown hair. In his hand, he gripped a stick, which was pointed menacingly at a little, brown dove. "Okay, time to test it out," the boy said, then, tightening his grip on the stick, he cleared his throat, and uttered one word, "Crucio!" The bird on the floor began to wriggle and twist, squawking in pain. The creature's agony was evident, even without its anguished cries. The sight was disturbing and sickening. Even Grimmjow felt pity for the poor bird.

No one deserved to go through that… well… no one except for Aizen, of course.

At that point, Grimmjow thought he wanted nothing more than to see Aizen in that bird's predicament, thrashing in unbearable pain, possibly even begging for mercy. That one thought filled his head, and he focused on it with everything he had, because, try as he might, he could think of nothing else.

The time it took for Grimmjow's mind to show him this was less than a pico-second, so Aizen had not finished with his release yet, the wave of thought that had hit the Sexta was instantaneous, and almost reflexive, when Aizen had begun to call upon Kyouka Suigetsu. Just as Aizen was about to finish the command, Grimmjow, his mind brimming with thoughts of a tortured Aizen, in his moment of desperation, pointed at Aizen, and screamed, "Crucio!"

…..

"Shatter, Kyouka Sui – " Aizen dropped his blade, as his body began to convulse with pain. He had no idea what was happening. Everything was fine until Grimmjow had shouted some nonsense at him. At first he had thought that the idiot had finally lost his mind, in trying to resist the inevitable end that was to come, but now it was evident that it was an attack. There was now searing pain coursing through his body. It was indescribable. He'd rather have a million knives stabbing him simultaneously, all over, repeatedly, than go through this torture. It took all he had to keep from screaming. Surely Grimmjow couldn't have done this to him, after all, he was untouchable, and yet here he was, barely able to see, due to the anguish that flooded his being. This was _unforgiveable_! Grimmjow would have to be punished in the cruellest way Aizen could think up, then he would try to make use of his _Primera_ Espada, yes, he could win Grimmjow over by promoting him. After, he would try to uncover more of Grimmjow's hidden powers and the secrets behind them, so that he could use them to his advantage.

It was amazing that though Aizen was being subject to such intense torture, that his mind could continue to plot. Aizen was relieved when the pain subsided. He straightened up; he didn't even realize he had doubled over in his agony. His body was shaking, still trying to get over the pain. He personally thought that after that experience, his nervous system was totally and completely destroyed; royally screwed. He'd probably experience random bouts of pain for no particular reason for the rest of his life from now on, he thought, and some of his senses might start to periodically shut off. After being subject to that, nothing would surprise him; the pain was otherworldly.

Grimmjow stared in astonishment at what he had just done.

Yes, this time he was sure it was him; it had to be.

This was not the first time he had made strange, unexplainable things happen. Although, all along, he had been doubting if it really were him, he had actually been trying to convince himself otherwise in his mind. There were numerous incidents in Hueco Mundo that he couldn't explain, like that time Ulquiorra called him 'trashiest trash' and the Cuatra's hakama suddenly caught on fire. Of course, there was no proof that Grimmjow had done that, it just spontaneously ignited, at the same time that Grimmjow really wanted to attack the man. Grimmjow had just thought that the universe was on his side that day. Then, there was the time he had woken up in Szayel's lab, after said psycho had drugged [A/N: Si-hime, thinking bout u, lol!] him and taken him hostage to do experiments on. Of course, when Grimmjow regained consciousness, he pulverized the scientist until the pink of his hair was almost unnoticeable through the red of his blood, and his formerly pristine white clothing was soaked scarlet.

That was not strange.

The strangeness started when Szayel went missing. Of course, everyone thought Grimmjow had done something to him, but he hadn't; he refused to go back to that lab, much less within a few feet of the maniac. When they found Szayel, he was in one of his storage cupboards, pinned up to the wall with scalpels from all sides, quite a few scratches, cuts, bruises and other minor injuries decorated his body, a rubber bung stuffed up his left nostril, and the floor of the cupboard was littered with broken test tubes, forceps and scalpels that hadn't met their mark. When they had let him out, he was terrified. His eyes had held a look that was never seen there before, the type he instilled in other people when he flashed them his manic glint. He was babbling about treachery, how his apparatus had all turned on him. He insisted that his tools had come to life, chased him into the cupboard and then started to attack him. Everyone attributed his tall tale to whatever the substance was that had been in the now empty syringe that was attached to Szayel's arm by a hypodermic needle. He had clearly injected himself by accident with crazy serum, right? Grimmjow thought so too, but there was a nagging voice at the back of his mind reminding him that the little scene that Szayel had just described was exactly what had been playing through his mind when he was storming down the hallway away from the said lunatic's lab.

Then, there was the time that Nnoitra kept talking about how he hated Nel while Grimmjow was trying to think of a way to get Ulquiorra to fight with him, and for him to win [yes, Grimmy thinks!]. Nnoitra just wouldn't shut up, and it was affecting his concentration, so the incensed blue haired Espada threw his zanpakuto across the room at the Quinta, and screamed 'Silencio!' Both actions had an effect. The wound on his left shoulder distracted Nnoitra from his rant, and, for some reason, Grimmjow couldn't hear the profanities he knew Nnoitra was spewing at him. Somehow, he had managed to shut the Quinta up, and he had no idea how. So, how did he deal with this situation? Well, he grabbed his Zanpakuto and ran out of the room before Nnoitra or Tesla could blame him for the Quinta's predicament. Then, nobody ever did figure out who had managed to slip that nail onto Aizen's chair right before the start of that one meeting; all Grimmjow knew was that one minute, he was pissed at the man, trying to wipe that cocky smirk of his face with his mind, and the next, the smirk _was gone_ and their leader had sprung off of his seat as though someone had electrocuted him. Plus, they never found evidence as to who really accomplished to paint Tousen's zanpakuto bubblegum pink, but there was suspicion that it was Grimmjow, as that was the day after Tousen had cut off his arm.

These were just some of the minor occurrences that happened on a daily basis in Hueco Mundo that Grimmjow couldn't explain and tried to deny had anything to do with him. And now, he had used some kind of torturing curse on Aizen. How, how could he do all this? Actually, he decided to save that question for later, because Aizen was starting to recover.

"You've been hiding some interesting talents indeed, Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques, I'll give you a second chance, how would you like to be my Primera Espada?"

Grimmjow scoffed and screamed, "Hell no!" and charged at Aizen again. Aizen was still a bit disoriented from the previous attack. Grimmjow managed to scratch him across his face with his long claws. A trickle of blood rolled down Aizens formerly unblemished cheek. The wannabe god looked absolutely scandalized. Grimmjow smirked. He sent another dessgarron Aizen's way, but this time the shinigami was prepared, and he dodged the attack. His face was restored to flawless once again, as the hougyouku healed his wounds. Grimmjow was enraged. Once again, he focused on causing Aizen as much pain as possible, and put all his willpower into making that real. Screaming the curse once more, he waited. Though Aizen knew what to expect this time, he couldn't avoid it, and once more felt his body contorting in pain. Grimmjow would've liked to attack while Aizen was incapacitated, but it was taking all his energy to maintain the torture. He didn't let up on the intensity of the attack, willing more and more pain to course through Aizen's body with each passing second. It worked. Aizen was practically curled in a ball, and was actually reduced to crying out in pain, [how ungod-like]. Grimmjow kept increasing the intensity of the attack, when he was almost unable to continue anymore, it happened.

The hougyouku shattered!

First, with all the pain and magic coursing through his body, it was beginning to reject the divine jewel, then as the attack reach its maximum intensity, it shattered. Everyone in the vicinity just stared. Red shards fell to the floor, while Aizen staggered backwards, clutching his sides in pain, shock clearly etched in every line of his face. His long hair receded, and his eyes reverted back to their normal colour. Grimmjow plastered a smug grin on his face with the last of his energy, and, as the blackness began to envelop him, he called out, "Now's your chance Kurosaki, take him out!" and with that farewell, he lost all consciousness, and his body began its descent to the ground.

…..

Ichigo watched as Grimmjow blacked out and began to fall, the Espada's final words ringing in his ear. Gathering his resolve, he rocketed toward Aizen as the man began to regain his control over himself. He launched Zangetsu at the brown haired man, but Aizen had recovered enough to block the strike. The two Zanpakutos were a blur as their wielders continued with their dance of blindingly fast strikes and blocks. The shinigami themselves soon become a blur, their steps barely followed by any in their audience. Red was added to the myriad of colours flashing in the sky where the two shinigami fought as Aizen drew blood. The battle ceased for a moment, as they both stopped for a breath; Aizen thoroughly surprised that Ichigo could keep up with him. The substitute shinigami steadied himself, and yelled, "Getsuga Tensho!"

The blur of light energy moved at five times it usual speed, striking Aizen on his upper right arm, and creating a long gash. Blood flowed from the wound in torrents. Ichigo, with his masked donned, stood opposite the rogue-shinigami; no one had even noticed when he had brought out his Vizard mask. Behind his obsidian pools shone raw determination. In less than a second, he was behind Aizen, Zangetsu at his neck. From the close range, Ichigo yelled, "Getsuga Tensho!" and fired a crescent of raw black and red energy at the man. Aizen attempted to shunpo away, as getting hit at such a close range from the attack was sure to spell imminent doom.

Gin opened his red eyes just in time to glance his leader barely escape Ichigo's clutches. There was a long gash straight down his torso, almost cutting him in half. The blood flowed like a scarlet river. The brown haired man staggered a bit and then righted himself, looking at Ichigo with cold, calculating eyes. The orange haired teen steadied his grip on his sword, preparing for another attack. However, Aizen seemed to have regained full control over all his abilities, for he soon disappeared from Ichigo's sight, only for said teen to hear a whisper in his ear.

"Lucky shot. Nonetheless, you do have some skill."

Before Ichigo could respond, Aizen brought Kyouka Suigetsu down, and the scene was painted crimson.

Standing between Ichigo and Aizen was Isshin Kurosaki, cradling the stump of what had moments ago been his right arm, his expression laced with defiance and protectiveness. Ichigo stared wide eyed and horror struck at the bleeding form of his father. Rage filled his entire being. How dare that traitorous scum hurt his family? Then, Aizen's mocking smile as he said, "Ah, how touching, but you'll both die here," triggered the ticking bomb that was the human/vizard, Kurosaki Ichigo.

Ichigo screamed, his reiatsu leaking out and swirling around him like a cyclone. Wind from who knows where whipped through the air suddenly, causing the substitute soul reaper's cloak to billow menacingly around him. With a cry of, "You bastard!", the massive typhoon of reiatsu, and the orange haired teen enclosed within hurled toward to man standing in his blood soaked, formerly white outfit. The air pressure around Aizen increased, preventing the man from moving as Kurosaki hurtled towards him at incomprehensible speeds. Without even uttering the command, Ichigo sent two successive, massive, speeding getsugas toward Aizen, while also rushing forward with his sword to follow up the attack. The getsugas struck their mark, slicing off Aizen's left hand, and leaving a deep gash in his body which crisscrossed with the previous, which actually managed to sever the body at the upper portions of the wound. There was now nothing to suggest Aizen's clothes had ever been any colour other than the scarlet that they were now dyed. As long as Aizen didn't get any medical attention, he was done for. But that didn't stop Ichigo from speeding toward him with his Zanpakuto poised to pierce through his heart. Just as it seemed he would make contact, and Aizen began to feebly fumble with his sword in an attempt at defense, at large rent ripped through the atmosphere, and from within, a hand emerged.

It grabbed hold of the battered lord of hueco mundo, as if he were a rag doll, tossing him through, and immediately, the gaping hole sealed itself. Whilst the tear bore similarities with a garganta, it was different. It had sealed before Ichigo could try to barge his way through. Everyone stared dumb founded, including a wide eyed Ichimaru Gin, who seemed as confounded as the rest of those who were gathered. Everyone heard ichigo's cry pierce through the air.

"Noooo! Dammit!"

He slashed his Zanpakuto into a building that stood behind the spot where Aizen was formerly standing, sending pieces of concrete crumbling to the floor.

Gin was still glued to the spot, eyes transfixed on the area where the portal had opened and Aizen had been pulled through. Ichigo walked up to him, and in his anger, grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck. The man was so engrossed with the events that were replaying in his mind, that he didn't notice being lifted off the ground until the short tempered substitute began rattling him around and screaming.

"Where did he go? Who helped him?"

"…"

Gin stared at Ichigo, taking a moment to absorb the questions.

"I…I…don't know," the silver haired man finished softiy, his mouth no longer upturned in its usual smile.

…

Ichigo Kurosaki walked toward Urahara's shop, replaying the events of one week ago in his head. He was so close to finishing Aizen and ending it all, once and for all. Then the unknown entity had decided to interfere with it all. Thorough questioning of Ichimaru Gin, which continued on a daily basis, had not yet revealed any information on this new player in the game; either the man was extremely good at keeping secrets under pressure, or he really didn't know anything, and Ichigo thought it was the latter, knowing some of the tortures the interrogation squad had put him through.

Then, there was the matter of Grimmjow, whom the Gotei had also wanted to interrogate. Ichigo doubted whether the Sexta –or was it former Sexta? – had any information on this topic, and was pretty sure he wouldn't take kindly to being strapped to an electric chair and being threatened to provide information. However, this hypothesis could not be tested as the espada was nowhere to be found after the battle. Had the mysterious hand captured him too?

Ichigo was pissed that after having Aizen backed into a corner, he had not been able to finish him off. The hand – and whoever was attached to it – would pay. On the upside, while the winter war had not been concluded, Karakura Town was safe from the clutches of a deranged madman with great hair for the time being, the only thing was being prepared for when he next struck, for he surely would strike again, if he survived. It would be best if they could find him before he had time to build back up his army and formulate some even more ridiculously unstoppable plan. For this purpose, Ichigo had begun training with both his father, whose arm had been mended by Orihime, and Urahara, though he would only be starting with the exiled shinigami turned shopkeeper today. He was also due to start learning kido from Tessai soon too. He would be as prepared as he could be for Aizen's next attack.

Ichigo was thankful that all his friends, family and acquaintances were safe, and that life was able to return to some semblance of normalcy. He tried to focus on what was to come, but no matter how much he did, he couldn't escape from one question. A topic that piqued his curiosity more than the hand. What was it that Grimmjow had done to Aizen, and how did he do it?

Ichigo sauntered down the street, and turned the corner toward Urahara's shop.

"Good evening Kurosaki-kun!" Urahara said, waving his fan in front of his face.

"Hey, Urahara, you ready to start my training?"

"Yes, but first, i would like to introduce you to your other sparring partner, aside from me of course."

"..."

Ichigo stared at the man in the green and white striped outfit. Then, he was pulled from his trance by a voice, a very familiar voice.

"Hey Kurosaki."

He spun toward the source of the voice, not daring to believe his ears. There, standing in the doorway to Urahara's living room, was none other than Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques. The blue hair was a dead giveaway, but the jawbone mask was missing.

"Grimmjow? So this is where you disappeared to!" Ichigo turned to glare at Urahara.

"Yup, when I woke up, I was lying in the room back there," he said, pointing with his thumb, "In bandages. I felt like shit. I hurt all over. I only fully recovered like two days ago."

"And where's your –"Ichigo didn't finish his sentence, but Grimmjow understood what he was asking as he was pointing to his face while he said it.

"I'm in a gigai, I don't see why shinigami complain about them so often, they're rather comfortable."

Ichigo's mind couldn't keep up with this.

First, Grimmjow was talking to _him_. Civilly.

Two, he was talking in complete sentences, in proper language, without insults or curses scattered in between.

Three, he wasn't asking for a fight.

And four, he was kind of smiling, almost pleasantly.

The scene was foreign and unnerving for Ichigo, to say the least.

"Ah, Kurosaki-kun, it appears I have some explaining to do."

"Hell yeah!"

Urahara explained that when the battle was over he had taken the injured Grimmjow for treatment before the Gotei, and Mayuri could get their hands on him. He was also curious as to Grimmjow's power, and also didn't want the Gotei to start pestering him, he wanted to hear Grimmjow's side of the story first. Then Grimmjow took over. He explained how he was fed up of Aizen and was trying to make things right, and how he just wanted a chance to live his own life from now on. Then, Ichigo heard that he and Urahara made a deal, he'd work for Urahara part time in exchange for lodging.

"Um, well, thanks for your help back there..." Ichigo said sheepishly.

"Hn." Grimmjow nodded.

"If you don't mind my asking, how'd you manage to hold out so long, and do... whatever it was you did?"

"I dunno, resolve?" Grimmjow shrugged.

"Well, now that everyone's introduced, let's get down to business!" Urahara exclaimed happily.

...

**After Aizen was pulled through the rift.**

The figure cloaked in darkness threw the battered, bloody body of Sosuke Aizen to the floor. Turning to his companion, he spoke, "Heal him."

"Yes my lord," came the voice of a woman.

"Pathetic," the first voice whispered as he looked at Aizen's bloody form, his cold voice cutting through the still air, "But we shall need him, he will prove to be a valuable follower in time to come."

Aizen Sosuke stirred in his barely conscious state, and managed the words, "Who are you?"

"I am the lord you serve now, shinigami, the soon to be ruler of all the worlds!"

Even in his injured state, Aizen somehow filled his disbelieving scoff with tones of condescendence. The man drew his sword and slashed it across Aizen's face, scarring his perfect features.

"You will do well to show some respect. You may be the man who almost became god, but alas, almost is only as far as the incompetent get. I shall show you true power."

He turned to his follower again, "Heal him, and let him rest, he is of no use to us in this state... also, go buy me some conditioner, I think his hair looks a little shinier than mine," the man added thoughtfully.

"Yes my lord."

Aizen saw the man step into the light, revealing his perfectly pale skin, handsome features, deep blue eyes, and his mop of wavy hair in honey tones. A broad smile was plastered on his face, only serving to enhance his good looks. The smile sent shivers down Aizen's spine. So this was how _his_ subordinates usually felt when he smiled at them. The last thought Aizen had before oblivion seized him, was that no matter how powerful this man was, he'd overcome him, and restart his journey to the top.

"Aww... he blacked out already, that's no fun! Pattron, deal with him quickly, we have more pressing matters at hand."

"Ah, yes my lord. Actually, I have been working on tracking it but –"

"What? Oh, that. Yes we'll have to get to that too, but not until you get me my conditioner. What do you think, Herbal Essences?"

Pattron smiled, and sighed mentally, "Sure, my lord." Really, was this guy for real, but then again, this _was_ one of the reasons she loved – um, I mean, admired – him.

"Oh, by the way, you'll probably need this," he said, shrugging, and tossing a bloody arm at her, "It's his."

"Um, thanks."

"Very well, I wonder if there's a full length mirror in this house. Hmm..." and he walked off to explore, leaving her with the prisoner.

**Hey, this chapter was written right after the manga chapter where Aizen fully transformed, and the story spews off on a tangent from there. Sorry for taking so long to update, I've had major computer problems, one after the other. It was so much, it seemed unreal! I killed my old lappy, that being the start of the problems, motherboard and hard drive fried! Then things only went **_**downhill**_** from there if you can believe that! I currently have no internet! It's torture. Hopefully the story will start making sense soon. Anyone like it so far? Please review, comments and criticism of any type are welcome. Oh, and the two worlds will meet properly soon. I had originally planned for Pattron to not be mentioned again after the prologue, but somehow she wormed her way back into the story, guess I can't keep her away from her Marc! Thanx for readin, don't forget, review. Oh, and if I didn't before, I'd just like to say I don't own Bleach or Harry Potter, cuz then I'd be rich, and totally awesome! This disclaimer holds for all chapters, so I won't have to do it again!**


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